by Ella Edon
“So, you’re stuck.”
“Very stuck.” The throbbing in her temple wasn’t as bad as before, so Eleanor lowered her hands, tugging her fingers through a tangle. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Marion. It’s like my choices have been taken away.”
“You have a choice.” Marion put a hand over her friend’s. “But it’s not something you want to make, isn’t it?”
“No, I don’t. I don’t want to marry to make my father’s money magically reappear only for him to gamble it all away again. I want to marry for love. Father knows that.” Eleanor huffed. “But as I get older, I know that’s going to be pointless. Nobody wants to marry someone too old.”
“You’re not old at all.”
Eleanor squeezed her friend’s hand. “Thank you for your compliment, but you know I am compared to other women. Women my age are married and with several children by now.”
Eleanor should have been married at twenty, at the very latest, and should have at least two children, maybe three. But things hadn’t worked out like that. Eleanor hadn’t complained about it before, although she had moments when she wished she could find a man who could love her for her instead of what she could give him financially. That was not going to happen anytime soon, and Eleanor had come to accept it. Now it was being thrust at her, a marriage of convenience with a lot of strings attached.
Something wasn’t quite right, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
“You did have your mother to look after.” Marion pointed out. “And after Matthew Leyton, I’m not surprised you wanted to back away from men. Maybe it’s time to take advantage and have a bit of happiness.”
“Huh!” Eleanor snorted. “I’m being traded for money. How is that happiness?”
“It’s not the Earl himself doing the trade, is it? Maybe he’s just incredibly shy.”
“Or incredibly ugly and needs a friend to find a bride who’s got nothing to lose.”
Marion sighed then gave Eleanor one of her sweet, comforting smiles. “I know you, Eleanor. You can turn it into happiness, no matter what. It’s what you’re good at.”
Eleanor hoped that was the case, because she was not feeling so confident about it right now. She had said nothing less for love, something that wasn’t the done thing. It was all about connections, about who knew whom and who had the most money. If love was there, it was a remarkable feat.
There was another reason she hadn’t chosen a husband years ago. She didn’t want to be treated like a stranger by her own spouse.
Eleanor reached into her pocket and withdrew the letter Parsons had given her as Eleanor stepped out into the garden. She hadn’t opened it, simply staring at it before she shoved it into the pocket she had sewn into her dress. Knowing her luck, it was bad news, and Eleanor could do without more bad news right now.
“I’ve also got a letter.”
“Oh?” Marion put aside her sewing. “Who from? Not Leyton?”
“I hope not. I won’t know until I open it up.”
It took a few moments. Eleanor wasn’t sure if she was ready to look at it if it was from Leyton. His flowery words on paper were worse than out loud, and it just made him look crazed. Eleanor had called him a madman before for his actions. She hadn’t realized how close to the mark she had been.
Turning the envelope over, Eleanor opened it. The writing inside was the same as the writing for the address; sharp, spiky. It was like they weren’t sure what to say and it was coming out awkwardly. Eleanor scanned the lines and then saw the name at the bottom. One her father had told her before.
Chapter Ten
“It’s from my intended husband.”
“Really?” Marion’s eyebrows almost disappeared into her hairline. “That was quick. You only got told about him this morning.”
“It appears that Father and his benefactor have had this in plan for a while.” Eleanor scowled. “I wonder if they might have kept this from me until the moment I’m about to walk down the aisle.”
“At least you’re finding out now.” Marion looked over her shoulder. “Nathan Reynolds, Earl of Brixton. Nathan’s a nice name.”
“I suppose.” Eleanor sighed. “He is an Earl. At least he might be able to provide for me if he’s willing to take me on without a dowry.”
“Isn’t this mysterious benefactor of your father’s going to help with that?”
“Probably. I don’t know how that’s going to work.”
“Well, what does he say?”
Eleanor read through the letter. It felt informal, there were a lot of flattering words. Ones that might have worked on someone else. It wasn’t working on Eleanor. It was like the man was trying too hard.
Awkward. The Earl was definitely awkward. It was probably why he was still unmarried.
“What does he say?” Marion nudged Eleanor’s arm. “Don’t keep me in suspense! What does he say?”
“I’d be able to read it if you didn’t nudge me like that.” Eleanor tried to make sense of the words. Eventually, she got to the last paragraph, which wasn’t trying to flatter her. “He’s asking me to come to his home in Brixton to meet his mother and have lunch. Then we’ll discuss wedding arrangements.”
“Discuss wedding arrangements.” Marion snorted. “Doesn’t give you much choice on that, does he?”
“I haven’t got a choice, remember? This was agreed through Father and a friend of Lord Brixton’s.” Eleanor tossed the letter aside and crossed her legs, slumping over her knees in a huff. “That’s it. No word or protest from me.”
Eleanor didn’t want to get married like this. Her father knew that. She understood what he was trying to do, and they all knew it was the best option for all of them. He couldn’t look after her forever, and with their significantly reduced funds, a marriage was the best thing for Eleanor. But Eleanor had wanted to find someone who would love her. She had witnessed too many people in unhappy marriages, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to cope. This just took the option completely out of her hands, and Eleanor didn’t like it.
She was going to have to just take a deep breath and get on with it.
“He sounds really sweet, though.” Marion picked up the letter and skimmed through. “A little unsure of himself, but sweet.”
“If you like awkward,” Eleanor grumbled. “But I think the term you’re looking for is sickly sweet. It’s like he’s trying too hard to flatter me. I don’t like that.”
Marion laughed. “You’ve never liked anything conventional in society. That may be something you can sort out when you meet him. Tell him that he doesn’t need to try so hard.”
“I plan to.” Eleanor straightened up. “Like I plan to tell him my work at the orphanage is not up for discussion. If he doesn’t want me working there, tough.”
Marion stared at her. “You’re willing to go against his decision?”
“He can’t keep me under lock and key. I will not be kept a prisoner because I want to do something to help others.”
“It could lose you the marriage.” Marion pointed out.
Eleanor looked up at her friend. “Looking after those children is more important than being married. If we lose everything, I’ll go and live at the orphanage. I’ll become a nun. Just as long as I am able to help those children.”
After hearing about Theresa’s death, Eleanor knew she had to do more to help these children. They were disappearing at an alarming rate, and God only knew what was happening to them. Eleanor wanted to keep them safe. The people who kept taking the children, the ones who killed Theresa, did not have their best interests at heart. She wanted them to know she was always going to be there. She would never hurt them.
Marion tilted her head to one side as she regarded her friend. “You’re very determined on this, aren’t you?”
“No man has told me what to do before, Marion. Father excluded.” Eleanor looked up at the younger woman. “I’m not going to let that start now.”
“I know that much, but…” Marion pin
ched the bridge of her nose. “You’ll end up alone for the rest of your life, Eleanor.”
“I don’t think so.” Eleanor smiled and put her hand over Marion’s. “As long as I have you around me, I’ll be fine.”
Marion was a loyal friend. She wasn’t going anywhere. Marriages may come and go, but friends like Marion Laurie never went anywhere.
Nathan didn’t go home immediately. It had been early morning when he got off the boat, and while business was going on, the streets weren’t bustling. That would come later. Instead, Nathan decided to make the most of it and head into the underbelly to make headway on his investigation. Simon had eagerly agreed as well.
It delayed him going home and finding out what his mother was up to, but Nathan felt like stalling. His army work came first before anything, and he wanted to make a start. His other duties could wait, as they had been for over a year now.
Nathan’s trip into the underbelly of London had been brief, but he had learned quite a bit. Eric Black’s people were always going around asking for contacts, saying they had a lot of merchandise. A few of the clients said everything that Nathan needed to know once they had had a few drinks. They knew what was going on, and children were cheap or free labour, so they never asked questions about where the children came from. None of them were paying for them to speak or do their lessons.
Nathan didn’t want to begin to think how bad things could be for these children. They could have a simple job of working in the fields in the countryside, or something a little more dangerous like working in the mines. Nathan hadn’t made arrangements for them to come into the country to be labour. They had wanted these children to have a proper life. Grow up with people who would look after them like their own children. There were plenty of people in England and Wales who would raise these children without prejudice.
Simon had advised not to do too much whenever they went out. If they did too much or did it every night, they would draw suspicion on themselves. It was best to take it in bits and pieces. Nathan didn’t like it, but Simon was right. He did have a month to find out the answers, although four weeks might be too late for some of the children. Nathan wanted to know that they were safe and well. This was getting less and less optimistic in his mind the longer it went on. Nathan just wanted to know what was happening and stop the people doing it. Children were innocent. They shouldn’t be used like this.
He certainly wanted a few words with Eric Black.
Finally, Nathan knew he couldn’t put it off anymore. He had to go home. Besides, he was hungry, and he really wanted a hot bath that wasn’t one in the middle of a camp with tepid water. That was the only thing he missed about being in London; he could have a long, hot bath in private without having to worry about the next person to use the bath water.
Nathan looked up at the house as he descended from the carriage. Simon had alighted earlier to go to his own house, promising to meet him at the club. Now Nathan was at the home he had grown up in. The place where he had spent his formative years when they weren’t out in the country. The place where his father had died.
Nathan still remembered when he got the news that his father had passed away after a short illness. It had hit him hard. His father had been a good man, and Nathan loved him. He had supported his only son’s decision to go to France and fight Napoleon. No matter what his wife said, the last Earl of Brixton had been on Nathan’s side.
Nathan missed him, even now. He didn’t want the title. He would rather have his father back.
Thanking the driver and giving him a generous tip, Nathan headed up to the front door and turned the handle. It wouldn’t open. Strange. The door was always open during the day, and only locked up when everyone went to bed. Nathan gave the door a sharp nudge, but it didn’t move.
What was his mother up to that she had the door locked?
Nathan used the knocker, slamming it down three times. He had no idea what was going on, but he was going to find out. And locking him out of his own house? Not happening?
It was a little longer than normal before the door opened and the butler Mason was looking out at him. Nathan was shocked to see how the trusted servant had changed in the thirteen months since they had last seen each other. Mason looked greyer, thinner. He looked unwell. Nathan couldn’t help but stare.
Mason was staring back, his eyes widening as horror passed across his face. For a moment, Nathan thought he was going to pass out.
“Are you all right, Mason?”
The horror froze, and then shock and obvious relief replaced it. Mason swayed.
“Captain Reynolds! Oh, my!”
Nathan grabbed at him as the butler’s legs gave way. Helping him inside, Nathan kicked the door shut and urged Mason over to a nearby chair. He leaned his rifle against the wall and dropped his bag to use both hands to gently manhandle the butler. One of the under-footmen came into the hall, only to freeze with wide eyes when he saw Nathan. Him as well? What was going on that people were scared at the sight of him?
“Harrison, get Mason a glass of water.” Nathan undid Mason’s collar. “He nearly passed out.”
Harrison didn’t move. Mason gave the young man a smile.
“It’s all right. Do as Captain Reynolds says, lad.”
“Yes...yes, Mr. Mason.”
Harrison ran off. Mason slumped in the chair. His face was still pale, but he was looking more alert.
“Forgive me, Captain. I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Obviously. I thought Lady Brixton would have warned you of my return.”
“She mentioned it but didn’t say when exactly you would be returning.”
The relief in the butler was evident. Nathan frowned and inspected the older man’s complexion.
“You don’t look well at all, Mason. Are you ill?”
“Just a slight upset with my stomach.” Mason rubbed his belly. “It’s nothing, really.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing. When I’ve cleaned up myself, I’m going to get Doctor Fallowfields to look you over.”
Mason’s expression became pinched. Then he relaxed, and he nodded. “Very well, Captain.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing else? You looked like you’d seen a ghost when you first opened the door.”
“I…” Mason winced and closed his eyes. “Forgive me, Sir. I thought you were someone else.”
“Who else in the world looks like me?”
Mason’s eyes snapped open and Nathan was immediately on the back foot. What had he said wrong? Then Mason’s expression was schooled to his usual serene look and he nodded towards the closed door across the hall.
“Lady Brixton is in the drawing room. She’s looking forward to seeing you.”
“Thank you. Would you have the maids fill a bath for me? I need to get cleaned up.”
“Of course.”
Nathan rose to his feet and crossed the hall. He was still confused. Mason thought he looked like someone else. Harrison looked like he was terrified of his master. And Mason’s illness was more than an upset stomach.
What on earth had been going on while he was away?
Vanity was lying on the couch by the window, her eyes closed and her features soft as she slept. She was looking as worn out as Mason. Certainly, it did look like she had lost some weight. Nathan found himself staring. This was not the same woman he had left over a year ago. Even sleeping, Vanity Reynolds had fire.
Her maid Desiree sat beside her, reading a book. She looked up as Nathan came into the room. Her eyes widened and then narrowed. Dropping her book to the table beside her, she snatched up a paperknife and advanced on Nathan.
“You…” she snarled as she strode towards him. “I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”
“Whoa, Desiree, back up there!” Nathan jumped out of the way, raising his hands to show he was unarmed. “What are you talking about?”
Desiree froze. Then she peered closely at his face. Nathan watched as comprehension dawned, and Desiree gasped, dro
pping the paperknife as her hands clamped over her mouth.
“Oh, my. Lord Brixton!”
“Oh, my, indeed.” Nathan picked up the knife. “Now, would you explain to me what that was all about?”
“I... forgive me.” Desiree dropped into a curtsy, her eyes not at the floor. “That was uncalled for.”
“I’ll say it was.”
Nathan frowned. He was used to the maid having fire in her veins. She had been like that ever since she first arrived, a perfect companion for his mother, but Desiree had looked ready to strike him.
